


You're Just You, Alright?

by Crimson (brookebrookebrooke)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Face-Fucking, Falling In Love, I really love Arthur Morgan okay, I've played it twice, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, and yes I KNOW how the game ends, i don't know what this is, leave me alone, let me indulge my fantasies, long word count, never intended for this to be this long, not really but you'll get it i guess, spoilers for later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-08 23:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebrookebrooke/pseuds/Crimson
Summary: It was a total accident that you ended up riding with the van der Linde gang. Some asshole named Arthur saved your life, even though he hates you. So what happens when a chat with your newfound friends leads to a fresh discovery?Basically a long-ass intro to some long-ass smut.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to just skip to the smut I completely understand, but the plot is kinda essential lmao. I never intended for this to be this long, and I never really intended it to have a plot, but shit just happened. I kinda like how it turned out. I've never published anything here so please feel free to criticise, thank u much love x

It was a total accident that you ended up riding with the van der Linde gang.  
You’d been bounty hunting for a couple of years now, riding mostly solo, saving your money for inns and beds when you needed them. You were pretty much self-sufficient and relied on your jobs for money.  
That was until one of your bounties turned on you, and things got ugly. 

It was a rainy October afternoon in the north of New Hanover, and you’d picked up a poster about a serial thief and robber named Charles Jameson. He looked easy enough, wanted alive, $100 on his head. That would get you by for a few weeks, until you could head up to Strawberry for a place to rest for a while.  
“Is he armed?” you asked the police chief, who was hunched over a desk, filling out papers.  
He nodded. “Most likely. He was last seen in Annesburg with a revolver and hunting knife, but we don’t know about any other rifles or anything.”  
You shook his hand and walked out the door, riding straight towards Annesburg.

Cut forward three days, six hours and forty three minutes later, and you were pinned to the floor of a burning wooden house with a knife tickling your throat.  
You were quick, but Jameson was quicker. He’d knocked your gun out of your hand before you could shoot, knocking a candle over and lighting a curtain in the process.  
The smoke was burning your eyes, making it hard to keep them open while you tried to push his arms away from you. He was moving closer and closer, and your strength was fading. This was it for you, and you knew it. You felt his knife dig into your throat and a slight amount of blood ran down your skin.  
You clamped your eyes shut and prayed to God that this would end fast, that you’d have no pain.

The sound of a gunshot rang through your ears like… well, a gunshot. Jameson fell forward on top of you, a clean bullet wound through the back of his neck. Blood splattered onto your face and drenched your clothes.  
You shoved the heavy, bloody body off of you, ready to greet your saviour, to pledge your life to them, to fall onto your knees crying.  
Instead, the mystery shooter still had his gun cocked and pointed at you.  
“You ain’t got much time, girl,” he said through the blue bandana over his face’s lower half. “This place is gonna burn down in minutes. Give me one reason why I should take a bounty hunter outta here ‘stead of letting you burn with it.”  
You steeled yourself, slowly getting to your feet with your hands up. “Easy, cowboy,” you said, trying to sound as tough as you could with the smoke in your lungs. “You ain’t gotta take me nowhere. Just let me go, and you’ll never see me again.”  
He didn’t drop the gun. “Not happenin’, sweetheart. You’ll get yourself, and then me, arrested in minutes. Lawmen are startin’ their ride up here. So you either get your gun, walk outta here with me and get on your goddamn horse, or I shoot you.”

-

You soon learned that your saviour (if you could call him that) was named Arthur Morgan, a name you’d heard whispered around parts a couple times. Classic outlaw, took up bounties when needed, killed who needed killin’. He was an alright man, he kept money rolling in to the gang and even caught a bit of game at times. You’d gotten to know Dutch fairly well, bonded with Sadie Adler, and even cracked a smile out of Charles Smith once. You certainly weren’t a van der Linde, but they hadn’t killed you or handed you in, so you really couldn’t complain.

Arthur, though, was more wary of you than anyone. Hell, you’d take Micah’s conversations over Mr. Morgan’s at times. He watched you out of the corner of his eye, gave you food after everyone else had been fed, and didn’t give you a share of whatever score he’d take. It was fine, though. You weren’t one of them. Not yet, at least.

It was now January, and a cold one at that. You’d been with the gang for three months now, and you’d especially bonded with Sadie and Abigail. Quite often you’d sit down by the river near camp and chat, sometimes you’d even grab a rod and take Jack fishing. He loved that, and you could tell he really liked you. John had warmed to you purely because of that.  
Tonight, you, Sadie and Abigail sat with blankets and a small fire, skimming rocks across the water, backs against an old tree stump.  
“Y/N,” Abigail said quietly. “What’s the big deal with you and Arthur?”  
You frowned at her. “Ain’t none. He doesn’t like me,” you stated simply. “He’s wary of me. I can’t blame him for that. I ain’t no van der Linde.”  
Sadie laughed at that. “I don’t think he doesn’t like you, honey,” she drawled. “I think it’s quite the opposite.”  
Abigail giggled like a little girl, and your eyes narrowed at her. “Abigail, stop that! He hates me. And quite frankly, I don’t give a damn.”  
“Hmm,” Abigail mused. “Ever think he’s actin’ like that so that you don’t suspect him gettin’ sweet on you?”  
You pulled your blanket up tighter around your neck. A small scar still remained there from your knife fight with Jameson. “We’ve been on two rides together, and both times he made me feed myself. Real fuckin’ gentlemanly,” you grumbled. Abigail didn’t like it when you swore, but she never pulled you up on it.  
She hummed to herself, leaning back against the tree stump. “Just keep an eye on him darlin’. Men act real funny when they got their eyes on someone.”

-

You hated to admit it, but ever since that conversation with the ladies, you’d kept a closer eye on Arthur. Quite often, you’d go to steal a look at him and find yourself meeting his eyes. Rarely, you’d catch him laughing to himself afterwards.  
You were sitting around the fire, trying to stay warm, when you heard Dutch come bellowing from his tent.  
“Boys, boys! I’ve got something interesting for you.”  
Your ears pricked up. Maybe this was your shot at finally earning Dutch’s admiration. You stayed silent, however.  
“What is it now, Dutch?” Arthur grumbled, clearly not impressed. You couldn’t blame him - Dutch’s actions hadn’t exactly been ideal lately.  
Dutch rubbed his hands together. “A bounty. A real big one. One thousand dollars, dead or alive. Name’s Andrew Phillips.”  
You couldn’t stay silent. “How the hell do you get a bounty that big?”  
“Four murders,” Dutch began, rattling off the crimes. “Three rapes, six counts of animal theft and two armed robberies.”  
“Shit,” you muttered, almost choking on your coffee.  
“Arthur, I’d like you on this one. Charles and John have bounties on their heads, you’re the only one who ain’t been seen around these parts doing somethin’ illegal.”  
Arthur groaned, and you flicked your eyes back to him. “Micah? Sadie? Can’t someone else take it? I ain’t no bounty hunter.”

You had to do it. You stood up, leaving your coffee on your seat. “I am. I’ll take it.”  
Micah glared at you. “You ain’t a van der Linde, girl.”  
You met his eyes, and narrowed them accordingly. “Precisely why I should take it. Y’all won’t get any heat. I know I don’t get cuts from the gang, but if I take this, I’m takin’ 10 per cent. I’m quick and clean. You won’t get Pinkertons or lawmen.”  
Dutch rubbed his chin, thinking. “You almost died on your last hunt. If it weren’t for Mr. Morgan, you’d be long gone.”  
You sighed, admitting defeat there. “Alright. But I spent five years catchin’ criminals before that and never messed up once. C’mon, Dutch,” you drawled sweetly. “You know I can get this done for ya.”  
Dutch sat, clearly thinking about it. A few seconds passed before he nodded. “Alright. You go on one condition.”  
You grinned. “Name it.”  
“Arthur goes with you.”

-

“I ain’t a fan of this,” you stated simply.  
It was the night before you were set to leave, and you were packing your saddlebags with the rations of canned food Pearson had forked out for your trip.  
Arthur grumbled at you, folding up a pair of brown trousers and stuffing them into his horse’s bags. “You ain’t a fan? How do you think I feel?”  
“I think you’re glad you ain’t goin’ on your own, cause you’re too old for this shit,” you spat back at him. You didn’t truly believe that statement, but you wanted to see just how far this would go. Abigail & Sadie’s words stuck in your mind.  
“Old?” His head shot up and his eyes met yours. “You’re barely five years younger than me.”  
“And five years faster, five years cleaner, five years better,” you said, your eyes narrowing. “Just stay home. Say I disappeared in the night as a head start. Hell, I’ll even write a note actin’ like I ran early.”  
He laughed. He had the audacity to laugh at you. “No way, sweetheart,” he spat back. “You need my help. If it weren’t for me, you’d be long gone. I’m comin’, and I’m gonna take him alive. You’re just there to be the pretty little distraction.”  
You couldn’t help yourself. “You think I’m pretty, huh?”  
His face turned bright red in the light from your lantern. “No! That ain’t what I meant. You’re just… you’re just you, alright? Now shut up and pack your things.”  
You chuckled to yourself but otherwise stayed silent, obeying his wishes.

You’re just you, alright? What the fuck did that actually mean? You were halfway between Beaver Hollow and Rhodes, near Emerald Ranch, where the bounty was last seen, but you were focussed on repeating Arthur’s words in your head. Was that a compliment? An insult?  
You stopped at an abandoned old one bedroom home to set up a camp for the night. Arthur let you take the lead, setting up your bed rolls on opposite sides of the room, as far away from each other as possible.  
“That’s my blanket,” he interjected when you laid the thicker blanket on your bed roll.  
“No it ain’t,” you hissed back. “I need the thicker one ‘cause I’m smaller. Shut up and suck it up.”  
He raised his hands in mock surrender, letting out a short exhale of a laugh. You rolled your eyes. “You gonna start a fire or not? Gonna let the girl do all the work?”

You sat in front of the fire in silence as Arthur cooked up pieces of rabbit for dinner. You kept an eye on him, watching his movements. And goddamn it, you couldn’t help but look at the muscles in his arms when he moved, or the way the firelight caught the colours in his eyes. He wasn’t conventionally attractive, but fuck, you couldn’t help yourself.  
“You mind?” Shit. He’d caught you staring. “I know I’m pretty, I don’t need your eyes on me.”  
“I’m watching the food,” you lied quietly, reaching your hands out closer to the fire. It wasn’t cold, but it sure as hell wasn’t warm either. “You’re so fuckin’ cocky.”  
“And you got a filthy mouth. Shame you can’t use it for somethin’ good, like getting yourself outta trouble.” You went to snap at him, out of habit, but when you looked at him, he had a warm smile on his face. “Relax, Y/N. I’m only messin’ with ya.”  
You weren’t used to this display of kindness from this man. Again and again, Abigail’s words rang in your ears like gunshots. “Fuck off,” was all you could manage, yet you mirrored his smile. There was no anger in your voice.  
It was a nice change.

You woke to the sounds of scuffing feet, before your blanket was ripped off of you.  
“Hey! The hell?” you called out, rubbing sleep from your eyes.  
As your eyes focussed, you saw Arthur leaning over you, his face set back into his usual scowl. That lasted long, you thought.  
“Get up. It’s daylight.”  
“The birds ain’t even singin’ yet,” you groaned, sitting up.  
“And you think this asshole’s gonna sit still and wait for the little birdies?” His tone was mocking you, and you hated it.  
You got up and tore down your camp, making sure to leave no trace of your stay whatsoever. As you rode off, you let Arthur take the lead.  
“Any idea of where we’re going?” you asked.  
He didn’t turn to look at you. “Around halfway between Emerald Ranch and Rhodes. Up on a cliff ridge, he’s got a good spot up there for huntin’. Should be there for a couple more days until he thinks the heat’s off him.”  
“And you’re confident us two can take him down? He’s obviously a total madman.”  
He laughed, and you detected a trace of the fondness he showed you last night. It only lasted a second. “If I’m honest, I don’t think I could get him alone. I don’t think you could either. Maybe it’s… maybe it’s good Dutch sent me with you.”  
You sat back in your saddle, smiling quietly to yourself. “You sayin’ we make a good team?” you challenged him.  
“I’m sayin’,” he shot back. “I’d rather ride with you than any of the others back home right now. It’s barely a compliment. Don’t let it get to your head.”  
“Even Charles?” You didn’t fully believe him, he and Charles were always close.  
He laughed quietly at that, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. “Yeah. Even Charles. But still. We ain’t friends. We’re business partners.”  
“Business partners. Right. Yes sir.”  
You could’ve sworn he sat up straighter when you called him that.

-

You were crouched behind a boulder with your trusty Lancaster repeater under your arm, a revolver and hunting knife in your belt. Arthur’s shoulder brushed yours. He carried a heavy sniper rifle, setting himself up a little nest.  
“I’m goin’ up on the ridge,” you instructed. “Cover me. If things get rough, remember we want him alive. Scare him. Shoot his leg or somethin’.”  
“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, listening intently.  
“If he kills me, leave me up there. Ride home. Don’t look back.”  
He shook his head at that. “Ain’t happenin’. I’ll just kill him and come get ya.”  
You had to laugh at that. “Mhm, sure. Just cover me, alright?”

You looked up at the ridge. There was smoke coming from about halfway up, the wind slightly obscuring its starting point. You crept out slowly, shooting an affirming glance back at Arthur. You heard him rustle around, getting comfortable.  
“He’s sitting in front of a fire, sharpening some sorta knife. He’s got no idea we’re here,” Arthur whispered, looking through the scope. “Move fast.”  
You didn’t hesitate.  
It was hard to find the footholds the killer must have used, but eventually you made your way up to where he sat. He was close enough that you could hear the sound of the sharpening stone against his knife. You shot a look down to Arthur, who was steady on the rifle, hadn’t moved an inch. You let out a sigh, unslinging the repeater from around your shoulders.  
“Phillips!” you called out, standing full height with the gun aimed straight at him. He stood, fingers tightening around the knife.  
“I ain’t comin’ with you!” Phillips shouted back.  
“That’s fine by me, asshole,” you spat, slowly moving closer to him. “I get my money whether you live or not. However I think it’ll be best for both of us if you walk down there with me, get on my horse and shut the fuck up!”

You watched something flick in his eyes, and for the first time since the ‘accident’, you felt genuine fear. This man was not coming with you alive.  
“And just how do you think you’re gonna do that, little lady? You ain’t so tough,” Phillips started, slowly moving towards you. You kept the gun aimed high, forcing your tremors back into your body.  
“Tough enough to shoot you if you get any closer,” you warned him, cocking the gun.  
“Try me.”  
You didn’t have enough time to react as he lunged at you. You desperately reached for the trigger, but he tackled you just as you hit it, sending the bullet flying into the sky, destined for no one. You cried out as you reached for your revolver, only for Phillips to kick it away from you, sending it skidding down the cliffs edge.  
All too soon, his knife was at your throat again. The scar there started to burn.  
“Arthur, please,” you whimpered almost silently, praying, praying…

Phillips’ body slumped in a heap beside you, his throat gurgling, mouth opening and closing like a fish. His eyes were wide open and his hands clutched his stomach, where he was bleeding profusely.  
You scrambled to your feet, finding your repeater and shoving it against his temple. “You wanna die like this?!”  
“Please, kill me,” he scratched out, eyes begging as the life started to leave his body.  
You pressed your gun to his chest and shot.  
You slumped to your knees as you watched the man take his last breath. It was something you’d never gotten used to, the way men died. You pressed your back against the cliff and took a few heavy breaths, wiping the blood from your face. It was all too familiar. Scarily familiar.  
And yet again, Arthur Morgan had saved your life.  
Speak of the devil. You heard him call out your name, and you called back out to him.  
“I’m okay! I’m fine!”  
“Come down, then. I ain’t climbin’ up there!”  
Even now, after all of that, he managed to make you laugh. You started your descent down the cliff, dragging Phillips’ body down with you.

-

“One thousand dollars neat. Shame he’s dead, would’ve been nice to watch him hang.”  
You barely processed a word the chief said. In your head, all you could feel was Phillips’ hands on you, the way he glared at you. You were a million miles away.  
So when Arthur placed his hand on your back, you jolted like you’d been shocked.  
“The ‘papers are gonna go wild for this. Phillips has been wanted for a long time. Can we have a name to go with this story?”  
You opened your mouth to speak, to tell Arthur to get his hand off you, but he cut in before you could. “Arthur Callahan. This is my wife, Bethany.”  
Bethany? Wife? Was this one of his super secret aliases?  
“Oh my, a bounty huntin’ couple. The paper boy is gonna love this. Have a good afternoon, Mr. & Mrs. Callahan.”

“Excuse me?” you spat at Arthur the second the door closed behind you in the Annesburg inn. It would be a long ride back to camp, so you two figured you’d take a bit of the money and get yourself a room. You’d already commandeered the bed and relegated him to the lounge. “I ain’t no fuckin’ wife, Arthur!”  
“Keep it down, won’t you, Beth?” He was teasing, and you knew it. “I don’t want no one thinkin’ I’m about to hit ya or somethin’.”  
“Fuck you,” you hissed, throwing the first thing you had your hands on - which happened to be a half open pack of cigarettes, left over from the last user of the room.  
The cigarettes scattered on the floor, but Arthur didn’t move. “I think you’re forgetting i saved your life. Again. Is that why you’re actin’ out?”  
You tangled your hands in your hair, staring at the floor. “You don’t need to remind me!”  
“You know, I don’t think you’re as good at this bounty huntin’ shit as you say you are,” he drawled, leaning back against the door.  
You went to snap back at him, but you stopped. He was stirring you up. He knew you were good. He knew you just had two bad runs. He knew everything.  
“You’re trying to get me wound up.”  
He sighed, putting his hands up. “Figured it might distract you. I saw the fear in your eyes at the station. That fight shook you up.”  
Don’t fucking cry. “No shit, Arthur. I thought I was dead. Again. And you saved my life. Again. Of course I’m shook up.”  
“I won’t tell no one if you don’t.”

That stopped you in your tracks. Arthur wouldn’t rat you out? “Bullshit.”  
“I’m serious,” he said with a small smile, moving closer to you. “You wanna be a van der Linde. You’ve been working your ass off for the last three months. Everyone sees it. I don’t wanna be the guy who rats you out to Dutch as a bad bounty hunter. You need some security.”  
“What I need right now is for you to shut up,” you grumbled, like a petulant child. “You wouldn’t do that for me. You’re sayin’ that to my face to seem like a nice guy, but of course you’re gonna rat me out and leave me stranded here.”  
Arthur’s face twisted into an angry glare. “You questioning my honour, girl?”  
You couldn’t help but glare back at him. “You think I owe you my life just cause you saved it again. Newsflash cowboy, I don’t give a shit who saved me. I don’t give a shit about bein’ a van der Linde. And I certainly, one hundred percent, undoubtedly, do not give a single shit about you!” Tears welled up in your eyes but you forced your body to blink them back. This was not going to make you cry.  
Arthur laughed. This asshole had the audacity to laugh at you. He stepped even closer to you now, to the point where you could smell the tobacco on his breath. “You’re lyin’,” he stated simply. “You do give a shit. In fact, you care too much. That’s why you’re so shook up, because you can’t believe it was me who saved you again. You’re embarrassed, and afraid. No, terrified. And who can blame you? That wasn’t your fault. Nothing that happened today was your fault.”

There was that fucking warmth again. He was being nice to you. He understood. He understood everything.  
“I hate you,” you lied, blatantly. He laughed again, but this one was softer.  
“Look at me.” His voice was stern, commanding, but soft all at the same time. You obeyed him, looking up to meet his eyes. Men act real funny when they’ve got their eyes on someone.  
He gently placed a finger underneath your chin, and you bristled at the touch. His hands were so warm and rough. “I ain’t gonna let nothin’ bad happen to you. I promise.”  
And then he crashed his lips to yours.

Your head spun with the sheer force of his kiss, the desperation and need behind it. But just as you went to reciprocate the kiss, he pulled away, face bright red with embarrassment. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I-“  
You cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck, staring into his eyes. “Do that again.”  
You saw something in his eyes change, something darken. His hand went from your chin to the side of your neck as he kissed you again, finally letting you kiss him back, which you did with vigor. You tasted the tobacco in his mouth, a taste which normally made you flinch, but now you couldn’t care less.  
When you broke away for breath, Arthur’s hand on your neck tightened a little, making you gasp. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he breathed, his voice an octave lower, which sent shivers through your body.  
“Ain’t that what makes it fun?” you challenged, laughing. “I don’t want you to stop.”  
“You don’t?” He questioned back, seemingly shocked. “Y/N, you’re killin’ me here.”  
You answered his question by kissing him again. He groaned into the kiss and moved his hands to your hips, walking forward, leading you. He pressed you against the wall, taking your breath away.  
“Easy now, cowboy,” you purred, grinning at him. “This is what you’re into, is it?”  
“If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” he breathed, and you moved one of your hands from his neck to touch his face.  
“Don’t you dare.”

He groaned again, a sound you could definitely get used to, and moved his face away from yours to kiss down your neck. You were incredibly sensitive there and you fought to bite back your moans - you weren’t going to give into him that easily.  
That was until his teeth ever so gently grazed over your skin, and you let out a strained whine of enjoyment. He flicked his eyes up to yours and laughed menacingly, his eyes sparkling. “Well, I gotta hear more than that.”  
You obliged him - you never were a quiet one anyway. Your hands found their way to his hair and you played with it gently as he planted kisses on either side of your throat.  
He stopped for a second on one spot and you almost asked him why, until he answered by biting down and sucking a bruise into your skin. You responded by pulling on his hair, which earned you a long, drawn out moan from Arthur.  
“You can’t go makin’ marks on me like that,” you argued half-heartedly, definitely not planning on stopping him anytime soon. “Everyone back at camp will see.”  
“Let ‘em,” he growled against your skin, sending another shock down your spine. “I don’t care anymore. I’m done waitin’.”  
You pulled on his hair again just to hear his reaction, and you weren’t disappointed. “How long you been waitin’, Morgan?” You tested him.  
His hands moved to the hem of your shirt and he stared at you, waiting for some sort of prompt to keep going. You grinned at him and nodded slightly, and he instantly placed his hands underneath your shirt, feeling the soft skin under there. His hands were so warm, the rough skin scratching deliciously.  
“Long enough,” he answered simply, slowly dragging his hands up to your chest. “I ain’t here to talk with you about that.”  
Your breath caught in your throat when his hands cupped your breasts through your brassiere, feeling your body tense under his hands. “Fuck,” you breathed. “Take my shirt off. This is making me way too hot.”

He grinned at you, making short work of the buttons on the front of your crimson shirt, shimmying it down your arms and tossing it aside. His eyes couldn’t break away from your chest, until you loudly cleared your throat at him. “My eyes are up here.”  
Arthur’s gaze moved back up to yours, and he mirrored your grin. “Oh, I’m well aware.” His fingers played with the delicate straps. “Can this come off too?”  
You shook your head, kissing him quickly again. “You can wait,” you teased. You weren’t truly planning on making him wait, you’d take the damn thing off yourself if he wanted that, but you wanted to see that angry side of him that you found so damned attractive.  
His hands went to your hips and dug in hard, enough to turn the skin red. “Maybe you misheard me. I want that brassiere off you, and I want it now.”  
Fucking shit. You got what you wanted. You grabbed his hands, guiding them to the clasp around your back, helping him to get the fiddly thing undone.  
“You’ve done this before,” you said as he played with it expertly, finally freeing the fabric from your back.  
“You think I’m a fuckin’ virgin or something?”  
You giggled. You actually fucking giggled. How embarrassing. “Not at all, darlin’,” you drawled back.  
He ignored you, finally removing the clothing from your body, letting your chest move freely. He stared at your breasts for a long second, watching as your nipples grew hard from a mixture of the cold air hitting them and your ever-growing arousal.  
“You gonna touch em or just stare at em?”  
He shut you up with a harsh kiss, while each of his hands moved to your chest, gently playing with your breasts. You groaned into his mouth when his thumbs and forefingers moved to roll your nipples between them and your head tipped back, hitting the wall and breaking your kiss.  
He pressed himself against you, forcing you harder against the wall, and you could feel the effect you were having on him through his trousers. It turned you on like mad. You desperately clawed at his shirt as he played with you, sliding his suspenders off his shoulders before hastily untucking his shirt and working on the buttons. You struggled, before two of the buttons popped off in quick succession. 

Arthur halted his movements, and you panicked. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you said honestly, meeting his eyes.  
He smirked at you, pupils dilated. “I fuckin’ liked that shirt.”  
Before you had a chance to respond, he’d thrown the shirt to the floor, barely allowing you a second to admire him before he flipped you around, pressing your chest against the wall.  
“I don’t appreciate pretty girls comin’ around here and ruinin’ my shit,” he growled into your ear.  
This was a game, you knew it. And you loved it. You loved hearing him curse, hearing the scarily low tone of his voice. “Arthur,” you whined, playing into his little game. “I’m sorry, truly, I am!”  
He surprised you then, wrapping his hand in your hair and pulling your head back roughly, making you gasp. He forced you to look at him. “You’re gonna pay for that, you hear me?”  
Before you had a chance to reply, his grip softened. “Are you good with this?” he asked, genuinely worried he’d gone too far.  
You let the game pause for a second to plant a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Honey, you’re drivin’ me wild here. I’ll tell you if it’s too much, I promise. But if you stop what you’re doing one more time, I’ll finish myself off.”  
He grinned. “Maybe I’d like to see that,” he started, before spinning you around again, still gripping your hair.

He forced you onto your knees, all while controlling you by your head. You looked up at him with a wide grin, knowing what was coming.  
“Take these pants off me,” he ordered. When you took a second to start, he shouted at you. “Now!”  
“Yes, yes I’m sorry,” you stammered out, quickly undoing the buttons and the fly of his trousers.  
“Yes, what?” he asked, tightening his grip again, making you gasp.  
You bit your lip and grinned at him. “Yes, sir.”  
You felt his entire body tense under your hands and a sense of pride and excitement washed over you - you were turning him on as much as he was doing so to you. You dragged his trousers down his legs, pooling them at his ankles, but you left his underwear where they were.  
Instead, you reached a hand up and cupped his erection with your palm, slowly running your hand up and down him through his undergarments.  
“Fuck, you little tease. Quit it,” he growled, but his face was bright red and his breathing was already laboured.  
You just laughed up at him, moving your face closer and dipping your fingertips into the hem of his underwear. “Worked up already, Morgan? How long has it been for you?”  
He hissed as you removed his underwear and his erection was finally able to move, the hand in your hair moving to cup your face. “I ain’t been with a woman since I met you,” he admitted. “Haven’t wanted to. She wouldn’t be as good.”  
“You’re goddamn fuckin’ right she wouldn’t have,” you warned him, before wrapping your hand around his width for the first time. He wasn’t small, not massive either, but definitely bigger than anything you’d experienced.  
He let out a ragged sigh, his hips subconsciously bucking into your hand. “Relax, cowboy,” you purred, slowly moving your hand. “If you think this is good, you ain’t seen nothin’.”  
“I’m holdin’ you to that,” he groaned. “God, baby, use your mouth on me before I force you to.”

You stopped then, looking up at him, cocking your head. You loved that he’d just used a pet name on you. “And what if that’s exactly what I want from you?”  
“You want me to fuck your mouth?” The way he said it was so rough, so dirty, and you absolutely lived for it. None of the other guys you’d been with had been as rough as you wanted it.  
You pouted up at him, trying to look as innocent as you could. “Yes, sir.”  
“Say it,” he commanded. “I want to hear you say it.”  
“I want you to fuck my mouth,” you breathed, before adding, “sir.”  
You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, slowly licking a line up the underside of Arthur’s cock. He tasted salty, manly, a taste you’d never get used to but you didn’t hate. You finally wrapped your lips around him, working on getting his member as wet as you could so it wouldn’t hurt as much when he forced you. He was letting out the most beautiful, short, cut-off moans you’d ever heard, and you felt a sense of pride in your heart from that.  
“Stop,” he ordered, pulling himself out of your mouth. He leaned down, planting a kiss on your forehead - the most intimate touch he’d shown you so far. “If I go too far, if I hurt you, tap twice on my thigh. I ain’t here to hurt you, sweetheart.”  
As he spoke, you made quick work of your trousers, tossing them aside as you sat on your heels in just your white undergarments. They weren’t fancy - you weren’t exactly planning this.  
“It’s okay, Arthur,” you promised him. “I know my limits. I’ll be okay.” 

He shot you a warm smile before his face steeled again. He glared down at you and you instantly opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out.  
He placed his cock on your tongue, and when you didn’t flinch, he gently took a hold of your hair and slowly started to push into your mouth. He stopped when his cock hit the back of your throat before you swallowed, meeting his eyes, encouraging him to go further.  
He shook his head in disbelief, but forced his cock further down your throat. You bit back your gag reflex, breathing slowly through your nose and pinching your thumb against the pad of your palm to help. He pulled completely out of your mouth, savouring the sight of you with spit dripping and red eyes.  
Over and over, he fucked your mouth, letting out strings of curses and moans as his movements became ragged. You were aching for his touch, but if you were honest, you were quite happy to let him get off like this. It was a weird power trip for you.

Eventually, he pulled out and stayed out, a sheen of sweat covering his stunning physique.  
“Get up,” Arthur rasped, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. Before you had the chance to respond, he practically flung you towards the bed, you barely landing on it in the confusion. You straightened yourself up and laid back, beaming at him. He was gorgeous, and right now he was yours. He followed after you, looming over the top of you as he kissed your abused lips. It hurt, but it was a good hurt.  
You moved to shimmy out of your underwear, but he stopped you. “No. I’m takin’ them off,” he ordered, his hands beginning a slow, torturous ride down your sides. He played with the hem of your garments, fingertips tracing your hipbones, teasing you.  
“Arthur,” you whined, reaching for him, finding his hair again. “Please, c’mon. I just let you fuck my throat, for God’s sake.”  
He laughed at that, slowly pulling your underwear down your legs, tossing it to the floor. Instinctively, you crossed your ankles, suddenly embarrassed. The man you’d had suspicions about for all this time was about to see the most intimate parts of your body. It was terrifying, and you thought he sensed it.  
“Relax,” he purred. “I ain’t gonna be as rough with my mouth as I was with yours.”  
“You’re gonna use your mouth on me?” you asked - you’d only had that done once before, and even then, it was nothing compared to the stories you’d heard from your old lady friends.  
He frowned at you. “Unless you don’t want me to?”  
“No!” you quickly answered him. “It’s just… no one’s ever really…” you trailed off, blushing.  
The grin on his face was animalistic, almost feral, and it turned you on like crazy. “Open your legs for me. I’m gonna show you what you’ve been missin’.”

You hesitated, but the genuine, caring look in his eyes made you trust him. You slowly unfolded your ankles and let your legs fall open, exposing yourself to him. His eyes flicked down to between your legs and he smiled again. “You’re soaked already,” he commented.  
Your blush deepened but you resisted the urge to hide behind your hands. “That’s your fault,” you fired back.  
He didn’t answer, instead reaching out a warm hand to touch you, sliding his index finger from your hole to your clit. You shuddered and let out a quiet moan - you hadn’t been touched for longer than what he had. He rubbed slow, deliberate circles over your clit with his thumb, making you groan and arch your back slightly.  
You whined when he pulled his hand away from you, only to giggle when he wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer, before kneeling between your legs. He gave you a look that said ‘you ready?’ to which you nodded eagerly.  
He grinned at you with that animal-like grin again, before his face disappeared between your legs. He started with long, slow licks up through your folds, alternating between using his mouth to just the tip of his tongue and back again.  
“Fuck, Arthur,” you moaned, arching up further into his mouth. He tightened his grip on your thighs, hard enough to bruise, but you fucking loved it.  
“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he groaned against your skin, his voice sending vibrations through your core, making you shiver. He was amazing with his tongue, finally, you understood what your girlfriends were on about.  
Soon, too soon, you felt your orgasm starting to build up within you and it startled you - no man had ever actually gotten you off before. But this man, this man was already making you see stars.  
“Arthur, I- I think I’m gonna come,” you stuttered out.  
He let out a low growl against you, speeding up his movements. “C’mon, Y/N. Be a good girl for me.”  
His words sent you flying over the edge, grabbing at his hair and pulling harder than you meant to. You cried out a cacophony of his name and every curse you could think of, your vision going white. You could get yourself off but never like this.

Arthur pulled away from you, sliding up your body to kiss you, your taste still on his lips. That was something new, but you definitely didn’t hate it.  
“Do you want to stop?” he asked, so genuine that it made your heart throb almost as much as your core was at that moment.  
You ran your fingers down his cheek, kissing him again. “You haven’t finished.”  
“I don’t mind,” he said honestly. “I can tell that was a lot for you. If you’re done, you’re done. I ain’t gonna make you do shit you ain’t ready to do.”  
You couldn’t help but blush. “I want to, Arthur. I’m fine. Please?” you pleaded - your body was still recovering, but when you looked down and saw how desperately hard he was, you felt another wave of arousal wash over you. “Just… be slow with me. At first. It’s been a while. I’ll let you know when you can properly fuck me.”  
He absentmindedly ran his fingers up and down your side as your breathing started to calm down. “That’s what you want? Rough?” he verified, silently asking your consent, which only turned you on more.  
“Please,” you breathed, slowly trailing your hand down his chest, his stomach, before reaching down to wrap around his cock. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

Arthur groaned - there truly was no resisting you. He moved your hand from his cock and replaced it with his own, lining himself up with you. He ran the tip of his cock up and down your slit, soaking it with your wetness, before he ever so gently pushed the tip inside of you.  
It hurt at first, there was no denying that, but he was so slow and gentle that your body relaxed and opened up to him easily. He slowly pushed forward into you until every inch of him was sheathed inside you, his arms shaking as he got used to the feeling of your body. “Oh, fuck, you are so fuckin’ tight,” he groaned, slowly pulling all the way out before sliding back in again.  
You wrapped your arms around his back, pulling him closer to you, encouraging him. “I’m good,” you hinted. When he was still moving a little slowly for your liking, you dug your nails into his back, making him growl. “I said I’m good. Fuck me, Arthur. Don’t dance around me like I’m gonna break.”  
He laughed low in his chest. “Ask me fuckin’ nicely, for a change.”  
“Please,” you whined, trying not to sound too begging. “Please, sir.”  
Damn, he really liked that name. He moved his hands to be beside your head before beginning a hard, fast rhythm, before occasionally slowing down and fucking you as deep as he could, getting his breath back whilst pleasing you at the same time. The whole time, he was letting out these ragged moans, which turned you on like crazy.  
“Fuck, you’re so good, my God,” you moaned out, digging your nails into his back and dragging them down, leaving marks and scratches on the surface of the skin, not enough to bleed, thank God.

However, after about 10 minutes of good, hard sex, you could see that Arthur was getting tired. You reached a hand up to his face, smiling sweetly at him. “Baby, stop,” you managed to get out.  
You saw the panic in his eyes. “You okay?”  
“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Get on your back.”  
His eyes widened. “You givin’ me orders now?”  
“Trust me,” you breathed, leaning up to kiss him. “I’ll make it well worth your while.”  
He raised a brow, but pulled out of you anyway and flopped onto his back beside you. You wasted no time in straddling him, sitting on his thighs. You met his eyes as you moved to line his cock up with your entrance, slowly sliding down on him.  
“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “That’s a new angle, holy shit.”  
You grinned at him, gently getting used to the feeling before starting to raise and lower your hips. His hands immediately flew to your hipbones, grabbing your flesh like his life depended on it. He helped you lift your body, slamming it back down hard, repeating the process over and over till you had a decent rhythm going.  
You were happy to do all the work, but he was way happier to sit there and let you, clearly, this angle was doing wonders for you.  
“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned, his comment sending a shiver through you. You were discovering a whole lot of new things that turned you on with this man. “You’re gonna make me come, fuck, don’t you dare stop.”  
You obeyed, actually picking up the pace, slamming down on him hard. He felt amazing inside you, and you felt yourself quickly building up to orgasm. You reached down and played with your clit, eliciting a moan from Arthur, clearly impressed with the view he was getting.  
His grip on your hips grew tighter and tighter and his breath became more and more laboured. He was close to finishing and you knew it, closing your eyes and focussing on your own release. You ground your hips back and forth as you rode him, hitting all those sweet spots inside you.  
“Oh, Arthur, fuck,” you squealed as you came a second time, tightening like a vice around him.  
Clearly, that sent him over the edge as well, roaring out your name as you felt him pull out and finish over your stomach and his own. He held on to you hard, leaving bruises on your hips.

As you both came down from your highs, you fell down beside him, reaching for the pre-folded hand towel left on each bedside table to clean the two of you up. After you finished, you tossed the towel aside and moved to rest your head on his chest, which was still quickly rising and falling.  
“That was amazing,” you whispered, looking up at him. “Was that good for you?”  
He met your eyes with a dazed smile. “Take a wild guess.”  
You laughed, trailing your fingertips over his skin, drawing patterns. “I don’t mean to ask questions like this but… does this - does this change things?”  
“Only if you want it to,” he said, and you could detect the genuineness in his tone. “If this is a one-time thing, or a no-feelings thing, it’s up to you.”  
You thought about it, but shook your head. “I don’t want either of those. I want you, Arthur. 24/7. I guess I just took my time realisin’ that.”  
He was silent for a moment, long enough to make you internally panic, before he wrapped his arms around you and just held you. “I want that too,” he said in a low voice. “Just… I don’t know what everyone back at camp is gonna say.”  
“Who cares?” you argued. “Let ‘em say what they wanna say. It ain’t their lives, and it ain’t gonna affect them.”  
He laughed, making your head bounce a little on his chest. “I s’pose. I just don’t want them treatin’ you any different. If anything, Dutch should finally let you be one of us.”  
“I wouldn’t mind that,” you admitted. You yawned and stretched your legs, getting comfortable. “But for now, I’m exhausted. This is a tomorrow problem.”  
“You’re right,” he said, catching onto your contagious yawn. “Sleep, sweetheart. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”  
You had the best night’s sleep of your life.


	2. Last Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special, beautiful, intimate night with Arthur isn't all what it seems. When the sun rises, everything is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all wanted this and I have been using my spare study time to write it instead of going my work, lmao. I tried my best with this chapter to build some suspense because I'm keen on continuing it, but I feel like it's awful. I'll stop complaining and put my whining in the end notes. have fun with this xx

When you awoke, you expected to roll onto your side and be met with Arthur’s sleeping face beside you. Instead, as you slowly woke up, you realised that he wasn’t there, and you were alone in the bed. You rubbed your eyes and sat up, keeping the sheet wrapped around your body as you slid out, using it as a makeshift dress.  
“Arthur?” you called out softly, heading over to the curtains to open them up. You hoped to see him sitting out on the balcony with a cigarette, but again, you found nothing.  
So was it all for nothing? Your thoughts started to truly get the better of you. He’d used you, gone back to camp to brag, and now if you ever showed your face again, you’d be humiliated.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that a knock at the door startled you so, enough to make your feet lift off the floor. Before you were able to calm down enough to call out, a freshly-bathed Arthur stepped through the door with two cups of steaming coffee.  
“Jesus,” you breathed, catching your breath. “I thought you’d disappeared.”  
He grinned at you, a grin that you couldn’t get enough of. “Can’t get rid of me that easily. I didn’t think you’d be up so soon, so I went to get coffee.”  
“And you had a wash as well,” you noted, taking the warm mug out of his hands and holding it up to your face. “We have to go back to camp today, you know.”  
He sighed, sitting in one of the chairs on the balcony, you following soon after. “They’ll appreciate the money, no doubt.”  
“They’d fuckin’ better,” you said without thinking. “I almost died. Again. Promise me you won’t tell anyone that.”  
“I promise,” he said sincerely, taking a long sip of his coffee. “Ain’t somethin’ they need to know. You killed the guy and got the money, that’s all that matters.”

You were silent for a moment, sipping gently at your cup, before you spoke in a much quieter voice. “And what about us?”  
“What do you mean?” he asked. “Thought we established last night that this is somethin’ we wanna continue.”  
You looked over at him condescendingly. “You and I both know it ain’t that easy, Morgan. Dutch will look at me different. We’ll never be put on jobs together.”  
He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “So we don’t tell ‘em yet. Let ‘em work it out for themselves.”  
“Seriously?” you asked incredulously. “You wanna keep this a secret?”  
“Not necessarily a secret,” he shot back. “Just not openly tellin’ nobody. The ladies will work it out pretty easy, but the boys are thick as hell. If they figure it out then they figure it out, but if we waltz in there actin’ like newlyweds then you’re right, they’ll look at us funny.”  
You nodded to yourself. “Sounds good,” you said, getting up with your sheet still wrapped around you. “Turn around, won’t you? I’ve got to get dressed.”  
He laughed loudly at that. “We just had crazy, wild sex last night, and you don’t want me to see you get dressed?”  
You folded your arms, staring him down. “Yes. You’ll get your chance to stare another time. But at least shut your eyes.”  
He grinned but turned his back to you, allowing you to get dressed. You pulled on a clean - if not creased - mustard shirt and light denim trousers, the only other clothes you’d managed to cram into your small bag. It wasn’t exactly a 10/10 look but it’d have to do.

It was early afternoon before you finally rode out, you following after Arthur. It would be a long ride, about three hours, before you made it back to camp. You got talking with Arthur about his past, how he ended up with the gang, the things he’d done before meeting you. You learned about how he ended up on an island in the south, the constant fight with the O’Driscoll’s, the Pinkertons, everything. It truly was terrifying if not intriguing.  
“And the O’Driscoll boys, are they still after you?” you asked.  
“Hell yes,” he answered, a slight laugh in his voice. “They will be until the day Colm hangs. Dutch wants revenge for Annabelle, and Colm just wants us all dead. It’s simple really.”  
“Yeah, real simple,” you mocked. “Do they know where you are?”  
“Probably. They’d sell one of their junior boys out to the Pinkertons for information if they had to. They’re ruthless.”  
You sat back in your saddle, admittedly a little worried. You knew the O’Driscoll’s were bad news, especially since you lost Kieran. You’d never come across one yourself, but you knew you would someday. It was all about how you’d handle it.

“Arthur! Y/N! You’re back!”  
Jack’s voice sung out to you before anyone else’s - knowing the kid, he’d probably been hanging around the entrance to the camp since you left. He’d really grown attached to you.  
You hitched your horse and knelt down to pick the boy up in a warm hug. “Jackie boy! You’ve been good, haven’t you? Helping your pa out?”  
“Of course,” he giggled. “Ma’s been showing me how to skip rocks on the water too. I’ve missed you, though.”  
You put him back down and ruffled his hair. “Go tell Dutch we’re back, won’t you?”  
He grinned and skipped off to Dutch’s tent, pulling him out a moment later.  
“Welcome home, you two,” Dutch bellowed, opening his arms wide in victory. “We’ve seen the papers already. Excellent job.”  
Arthur counted out the gang’s take of the money, handing a large wad of paper to the leader. “Y/N here did all the work,” he said. “Don’t thank me. I just watched.”  
“Is that true, Y/N?” Dutch asked, seemingly not believing you. You knew this was coming.   
“Yes sir,” you said confidently. “I wanted to bring him back alive, but he fought back. I shot him dead myself.” You conveniently left out the part where Arthur put him down with the sniper, but this was all Arthur’s plan.  
Dutch rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, well done my dear,” he said, patting your shoulder. “We may make a van der Linde out of you yet.”  
You couldn’t keep the big beaming grin off your face.

That night, you found yourself unable to sleep. Already, you hated sleeping on your own, even after only one night with Arthur. You knew you weren’t exactly his “girlfriend”, but you’d definitely grown attached real quick.  
You groaned to yourself as you threw your blanket off and got out of bed, wrapping yourself in a silver wolf pelt you’d skinned a few months back. It wasn’t cold but it wasn’t exactly roasting either. You followed a familiar path down to the water’s edge, finding a spot to sit where you could just watch the moon’s reflection on the surface. You sat in the silence for a while, listening to the sound of the rippling water and the soft breeze licking at your hair.  
“Can’t sleep either?”  
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” You physically leapt from your spot, clutching your pelt close to your chest.  
A familiar, warm laugh came from the darkness as none other than Arthur himself stepped forward, arms out front in surrender. “Easy, cowgirl. I thought you would’ve heard me comin’.”  
Your heart was absolutely racing, and you made sure he knew it. “You’re lucky I didn’t have a fuckin’ gun, you idiot, or you’d be dead.” You tightened your grip on your pelt and narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you ever do that again. You’ve done that to me twice today.”  
“I’m sorry,” he said meaningfully. “But it’s kinda funny watchin’ you react like that.”  
“I hate you,” you lied, sitting back down on the sand with your back to him - an open ended invitation for him to join you, but you didn’t say it aloud.  
He picked up on the invite and grunted as he sat down beside you, as close as he could be without actually touching you. “See, you keep sayin’ that, but I don’t think you do, sweetheart.” He was mocking you, but it was so innocent and playful that you couldn’t get mad.

“Keep your voice down,” you muttered. “We’re too close to camp. If they hear us…”  
“Let them,” he reminded you. “None of ‘em will be game enough to cross you in a bad mood anyway.”  
“Fuck off,” you laughed, moving to rest your head on his shoulder. It felt so natural that you didn’t even think about it until he shifted slightly, making you more comfortable. Your urge was to pull away, but you fought it, just letting yourself enjoy this for what it was.  
“Come huntin’ with me tomorrow,” he offered suddenly. “I got a lead on a pack of white wolves while we were out.”  
Your ears pricked up metaphorically. “I ain’t much of a huntress.”  
“Then follow my lead,” he said, reaching his arm out to casually wrap around you, resting on your thigh. “I’ve got a good habit of keeping you safe.”  
Two days ago, you would’ve screamed at him for making a comment like that. Now, though, things had changed, and you found yourself laughing with him. “I promise you, I am not getting in between you and a wolf. If you get eaten, that’s on you.”  
He laughed back, squeezing your thigh a little as he did. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go back to my tent alone,” you admitted when there was a quiet spot in the conversation. “It’s awful cold and lonely in there.”  
“It’s not a risk we can take,” Arthur said softly. “Believe me, I want you in mine too. But if I’m honest, I don’t think I could keep my hands off of you. And with how loud you were in that hotel… it ain’t safe.”  
You flushed bright red, sitting up so you could look at him. “Was I really that bad?”  
He nodded, moving a hand to absentmindedly play with your hair, which sent a shiver through your body. “I could try to sugar coat it, but yeah. You were pretty fuckin’ loud.”  
“I can be quiet,” you argued, scowling at him. “I just didn’t want to.”  
“Really?” he laughed, clearly doubting you. “I think you’re bluffin’. You’re noisy as hell, and I don’t have a problem with that, but others certainly will.”  
“Are you challenging me?” You folded your arms.   
He leaned up to you for a kiss but you pulled away playfully, denying him. “Answer the question.”  
“Now is not the time,” he groaned, reaching for your folded arms to try and pull you back to him.  
“Oh, really?” you argued, not unfolding your arms. “Seems like you’re trying to get cosy with me, Morgan. I’d say you want somethin’ from me.”  
“And so what if I do?” he challenged back. “Somethin’ tells me you ain’t gonna say no for long.”  
“I’m not gonna risk sleeping with you in one of our tents,” you said, clearly drawing a metaphorical line in the sand. “I’m not about that.”  
“I ain’t askin’ for that. Right here, right now. They won’t hear shit.”  
You let out an incredulous half-laugh, half-shocked noise. “You’re joking, right?”  
He reached out and grabbed the sides of your arms, pulling you in and finally kissing you hard, almost desperate. “Do I look like I’m fuckin’ joking now?”  
“Arthur, we shouldn’t,” you whined half-heartedly.  
He grinned at you like a devil, and it stirred something inside of your body. “Oh no, we shouldn’t. We shouldn’t have the first time either. Ain’t that what makes it fun, I believe you told me.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply before he grabbed you again, this time pulling you into his lap haphazardly, to which you responded by moving to straddle him. “You’re the devil impersonated, Arthur Morgan,” you purred, kissing him again, your mind clearly made up. “But I have something else in mind.”  
He raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”  
“No,” you laughed, running your nails through his hair. “I’m not feelin’ straight up sex tonight. I wanna get you off with my mouth.”  
The way you spoke so boldly and plainly made him flush red. “Jesus Y/N, you can’t just say sentences like that.”  
“Is that you saying no?”  
“Fuck, no,” he rasped out, looking up at your face. “I just don’t like the idea of it just being about me.”  
You shrugged. “I enjoy it,” you admitted. “You’ll just owe me one.”  
He thought it over for a long second, before letting out a long breath. “C’mere,” he breathed, pulling you in closer for another kiss. 

After a drawn out moment of enjoying locking lips with you, Arthur pulled back for breath, which you saw as a prime opportunity to move to his throat, planting hot kisses down his neck, stopping occasionally to nip at his skin. He let out these beautiful little moaning noises as you went, even going so far as to tip his head back to allow you more space. He clearly loved this just as much as you loved doing it.  
You moved your hands to play with the hem of his shirt, before moving up to unbutton it slowly. You’d had your chance to play rough with him, but now you were just focussed on making him feel good. You pushed the fabric off his shoulders, letting it pool on the ground around him. Your hands moved to his chest, running them over the toned muscle there, revelling in the feeling of his ragged breaths making his chest move under your touch.  
“You are so fuckin’ gorgeous, Arthur Morgan,” you purred in his ear as you slowly moved your hand down his body, over his stomach, which dipped at your touch.  
He flushed red, stuttering out a “thank you”, which just made you beam. He was acting like a nervous teenager when just yesterday he had been so rough with you. You loved his rough side for sure, but you were enjoying this just as much.  
You moved your hand to cup his growing hardness through his trousers which made him groan, his head falling forward to rest between your neck and shoulder. “You’re a tease,” he whined, trying his hardest not to buck up into your hand. He wasn’t going to give into you as easy as you thought - the idea wound you up like mad.   
“If you want to get off, you’d better quit complainin’,” you warned him. “And keep your fuckin’ voice down.”  
He laughed, reaching up to gently wrap his hand in your hair, pulling ever-so-gently. “Don’t act like you’re in charge. You’re still mine. Remember that.”  
A shiver ran through you at that, and you moved to slide down his legs, shimmying his trousers off as you did. You threw them aside haphazardly and he opened his legs enough for you to sit between them.

You moved your hand down his body to hold his growing erection through his underwear, running your hand up and down his length through the fabric. You could feel him hardening under your touch, and his legs shook just enough for you to notice.   
“Baby, c’mon,” he ordered, reaching up to touch your face, a touch you instinctively leaned into. “Don’t do this to me.”  
“Hey, don’t get greedy,” you teased, squeezing him slightly, making him gasp. “I said I was gonna get you off. I didn’t say I was gonna be quick.”  
He huffed a noise of disagreement but didn’t push it - he could tell that if he kept it up, he’d get left in the sand on his own.  
You finally gave in, however, removing his underwear. He grabbed them off you and put them underneath himself to stop the sand getting in places it shouldn’t, which cracked you up. “Really?”  
“I ain’t gettin’ sand up there, missy,” he said back, smiling. It honestly amazed you how easy this all was - the laughs and smiles, how easygoing and casual everything seemed. It didn’t feel wrong to have a laugh, even when your “partner” was completely naked and waiting in front of you.  
You shook your head but moved your hand to wrap around him, making his head fall back for a second. “Fuck, your hands are soft,” he breathed as you began a slow moving rhythm up and down his length, his hands going back to your hair, but playing with it rather than pulling it. He was so affectionate, so different to the person he was just 24 hours ago. You could tell that this was a man who had loved before and loved hard. A broken man halfway healed.  
You looked him in the eye - those perfect blue eyes - as you moved your head down to wrap your lips around him. He groaned and his eyes fluttered shut, physically restraining himself from bucking up into your mouth.   
You started a slow, painful rhythm, using your hand to cover what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You weren’t exactly practiced at this but you knew how to get your head around it - so to speak.  
He let out the most beautiful symphony of sounds, raspy breaths and quiet drawn-out moans, careful not to let himself get too loud. The last thing the both of you wanted was for you to get caught.  
You could feel him twitching in your mouth and you loved it - the power kick you got from having him completely at your mercy was kinda fun. “Y/N, fuck, if you keep this shit up I ain’t gonna last much longer.”  
You gave him a look that read, “that’s fine by me”, smiling as best you could around the the rather obtrusive object in your mouth.

As the seconds wound by, you could see the muscles in his stomach tightening, as well as his thighs clenching. The taste of his pre-cum weighed heavily on your tongue - not the best tasting thing in the world, but you’d tolerate it for this man. Anything for him. Your jaw started to ache but you simply didn’t care.  
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he managed to scratch out, his grip on your hair tightening almost enough to hurt, but somehow he instinctively knew not to go any faster.  
He let out one more cracked moan before he finished in your mouth, letting out gasps of your name as his body struggled to stay still. You swallowed without a second thought - you weren’t trying to be sexy, just trying not to make a giant fucking mess.   
You let go of him and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, blushing red. You’d never gotten a man off with your mouth before, and you made sure he knew it.  
“Really?” he questioned, breath coming in heavy shallow gasps as he came down. “You’ve never done that?”  
“Never,” you said, sitting back on your heels as he dragged his clothes back on, sans the sandy underwear.   
He grinned at you, pulling you close until you were sitting between his legs with your back against his chest. He was unbelievably affectionate and you knew he’d never show this side around anyone else. That fact comforted you - you saw a part of him that no one else could see. You brought that out of him. It was special.

After a few minutes of sitting in a comfortable silence, you rose to your feet. “Come on. You need to get back in your tent and get some sleep.”  
You took his hand and pulled him up to his feet. “You too. Just stay as quiet as you can going back. Maybe wait a few minutes so the gang doesn’t realise we’re coming back together.”  
You laughed softly. “Good plan.”  
Falling asleep was easy, after all, you had exhausted yourself getting him off.

You woke to sounds of shouting.  
“His horse is still here! I didn’t hear anything!” John’s voice, panicked, urgent.  
“He can’t have just disappeared. He would have left something.” That was Charles. His voice was still afraid, but quieter, more logical.  
You threw open your tent door, barely awake. “What’s goin’ on?”  
John and Charles’ eyes met yours. “You seen Arthur anywhere?”  
Your heart sank to your feet and your stomach coiled. “No,” you half-lied. You watched him enter his tent the night before, you knew he’d made it safe.  
“I heard scuffing feet, but I figured it was just one of y’all,” came Sadie, barely even dressed.  
You hurried out of your tent, all but sprinting towards Arthur’s. He wouldn’t have just left. Not without telling anyone. And especially not without his horse.  
You threw it open, half expecting to see him lying there and laughing, a prank pulled by the whole gang. But there was nothing. No note, no sign of anything.  
Except…  
“Fuck, there’s blood here,” you called out. Charles followed you in, looking at where you were pointing - directly in the middle of his makeshift pillow. A blow to the head.   
“Someone’s taken him,” Charles stated simply. “Someone managed to get in overnight. We didn’t have anyone stationed - there’s no way anyone knew where we are.”  
“Well that was a big fat fuckin’ mistake,” you lashed out, furious. 

“I’m going. There’s gotta be horse prints or somethin’ around here. And I’m goin’ alone. If any of you bastards follow me, I’ll shoot you myself. You hear me, boys? If they hear y’all coming, with your big fucking strides and noisy horses and lack of silence, we’re dead for sure.”  
You shouted your orders as if you led the gang. Even Dutch didn’t argue. He knew you were quick, silent. If someone had taken Arthur, your Arthur, only one person on this earth was getting him back.  
You mounted your mare and slung your repeater over your shoulder. “If anyone comes back here that isn’t me, shoot on sight. No questions.”  
Dutch shook his head, clearly pissed that you were giving orders, but he didn’t dare argue. You were a woman scorned, and a man doesn’t mess with a woman damn scorned. “Yes ma’am. Stay safe. Stay hidden.”  
You took a deep breath, trying to calm down a little. You offered Dutch a half-assed smile. “I’ll be fine. If Arthur is alive, I’ll kill him for getting himself caught.”  
And with that, you kicked your horse and rode out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see what I fuckin mean? I'm not happy with this tbh, but I have plans, big plans! if you're down pls let me know - I only continued this because of the lovely comments I got on the last one. you guys are so nice and I've never experienced that before.  
> if you hated this pls let me know and I'll work harder on the next one, but be as nice as you can because I'm a sad bitch


	3. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding Arthur completely broken and ruined, it's up to you to help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up - there's no smut in this chapter, so if that's what you're here for, I'm v sorry!! i wanted to build more of a story and a romance here, tbh I think it's pretty cute but it's up to you whether or not you read through this one. I'm more proud of the description in this one than I am with the first two!!

If nothing else, you were a damn good tracker.  
There wasn’t any blood and barely any horse prints to track, but you had a rough idea. You stopped every few hundred metres to get off your horse and have a look around, occasionally doing circles, but you got the trail fairly well.  
It had to be O’Driscolls. It had to be. Pinkertons would’ve walked in and shot the whole camp to bits. An O’Driscoll could pass as an everyday citizen, walking past and catching bits of conversation that would lead them right to you. The gang wasn’t careful enough. You weren’t careful enough.  
After a long ride - three hours worth of nothing but empty fields - something caught your eye. A small wooden house. Smoke from out the back. Campfire smoke.  
Nobody lived out here. Nobody ‘cept outlaws. And your outlaw just happened to be missing.

You thought of the blood on his pillow as you made your horse flee the area. If he was laying on his side, the blow would’ve hit his temple and broken the skin - an extremely hard knock, too hard for human hands. No, this was a pistol blow to the side of the head, with the aim of knocking him out but keeping him alive.  
They didn’t want to kill Arthur Morgan. They had no intentions of it. They wanted to draw out the one person who’d always come after him. Who’d always save him.  
Dutch.  
How had you been so blind? How had /any/ of you been so blind? Of course they wouldn’t just walk in and start shooting people - they wanted to turn Dutch in, take a big wad of cash and watch him swing. Colm practically fantasised over it. Anyone else who was injured or killed in the process of Colm getting his wish was just collateral.   
You thanked God that you’d told the men to stay back at camp. Did you have much faith in them actually listening? Lord no. But you’d at least bought yourself enough time to get in there and get out without getting shot to death.

You crouched behind a thick berry bush to scope out the house through your binoculars. It wasn’t heavily guarded, maybe five or six. They were all armed and patrolling the area like it was full of gold. They expected a gang, John, Javier, Charles, all the boys. They’d never expect one little girl to come in and ruin everything. Just what you needed.  
You had two options. Go in hard with the repeater, shoot everything in your road and make a noise, cause a scene. The risk of you getting killed was high, as was the risk of them killing Arthur, but at least you’d be in and out quick. Or, you could go stealth with your bow, knocking them out one by one. You weren’t an expert archer by any means, but you were good enough to take out six guys through the heart or head. You decided to go with option two - if they heard you coming, they’d kill Arthur without a second thought.  
You unhooked your bow from around your back and loaded it up.

One, two, three - the guards outside the house fell without as much as a grunt. The sounds of their bodies hitting the ground must have alerted more of them, as another two moved outside. You couldn’t hit them from where you were so you crept to a fallen tree close by, crouching behind it, trying to take aim again.  
“Someone’s here!” one of the men shouted, alerting whoever was inside. “I don’t see nobody. Keep that man out cold!”  
They were keeping Arthur unconscious. Fuck. You forced down your shudder as you thought about what they were doing to him - it made your blood boil and your anger go to your head. Too much so.  
You swapped your bow for your repeater, throwing option two out the window. You popped up from behind the tree, pointing your gun at the men. “Put your weapons down and step away from the house, and maybe I’ll think about letting you go!”  
Both men turned to you, clearly not expecting to see a girl with a gun. “Oh sweetie, that’s cute.”  
You hated the patronising, but you forced it back. “I’ve already killed three of your men. You’re losing the battle here. Let him go, and I won’t hurt any more of you.”  
“And why should we do that?” the larger of the two questioned, hand on his pistol. “What’s he to you, huh? Jilted lover?”  
“What’s it matter to you?” you spat. “I’ve had enough of this.”  
And you shot.  
The larger man fell first, the other man reaching for his pistol and firing at you, missing by a thread. The bullet brushed by you, close enough that you could feel the heat from it. You shimmied to one side and shot again, hitting the guard in the stomach.

He gurgled out something that sounded like “shit” as you stood over him, one boot on his chest, pushing down hard.   
“How many more of you bastards are there?”  
When he didn’t answer, you reached down with the end of your gun and drove the bullet deeper into his stomach, making him scream. “I said, how many more are there?”  
“Just one!” he cried out, the blood slowly beginning to drain from his face. “He’s in there with Morgan. Please, god, stop this pain!”  
You wiped the sweat from your lip and pressed the gun to his chest, pulling the trigger.  
Normally, you would have stopped to breathe for a second - you hated death in all its forms - but you didn’t have time now. You pushed open the door of the house.

You were confronted with an unconscious, shirtless, bloody and beaten Arthur. He had cuts over his chest and stomach and a deep black eye, as well as blood congealing on his lip. He looked like he’d been tortured - and you supposed he had been.  
There was another man in the room - a small, stocky man, around your height. He stood with a knife in his hand. “You killed my men.”  
“Oh come off it. You ain’t Colm, and you can pretend all you like. You’re just a shitty henchman. Stand down, asshole. I don’t want to shoot anyone else.” You kept the gun raised, aimed at his forehead.   
“And let you walk away? I’m a dead man either way. May as well have some fun with it,” he argued. He spun the knife in his hand and lunged at you, but his height got the better of him. You shot before he was even close, hitting him in the centre of his chest, just missing his heart. He slumped in a heap on the ground, and you met his dying eyes as he took his final breath.  
The second you knew he was dead, you ran to Arthur, falling to your knees in front of him. You cradled his face with your hand, using the other to gently shake his shoulders. “Arthur. Can you hear me? I’m here, I’ve got you.”

He seemed to half-awaken, a broken groan leaving his body. He rolled his head back, his breath coming in desperate, shallow gasps. He tried to speak your name but nothing came out, just the movement of his lips.  
“Shh, it’s okay, you don’t need to say anythin’,” you said, moving behind him to cut the ropes free with the knife the guard dropped. “I’m gonna get you home. It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”  
“I’m sorry,” he slurred, trying to meet your eyes. You placed a finger on his busted lips, shushing him.   
“Stop. Listen to me for once and shut up,” you said gently, offering him a loving smile. “Can you walk?”  
You helped him to his feet and his whole body shook, slumping against your body. He looked at you desperately and shook his head no. You sighed, sitting him back down in the chair. “I’m gonna have to carry you to the horse. Just go limp for me, okay? You ain’t exactly light.”  
You crouched onto the ground and threw his body over your shoulders, grunting at the weight, your knees almost collapsing. Your breath came in short pants as you made your way to your horse, all but throwing him onto the back of it. You sat him up and mounted, pulling his arms to wrap around you. His head fell onto your shoulders and he groaned as you felt blood run down your arms. But it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered but getting him home.

“John! Charles! I need a goddamn hand!”  
As you made your way back to the camp, you saw the horrified faces of your fellow gang members. Abigail went almost white, shielding Jack behind her skirts so he couldn’t see the horror of Arthur’s ruined form.  
Charles and John hurried to your side, each helping Arthur off your horse and carrying him to the makeshift doctors surgery that Miss Grimshaw had set up for him. You grabbed the first canteen of water you saw and ordered Charles to hold him upright while you slowly dribbled water into his mouth.  
He lapped up as much as he could with busted lips and a dry tongue, Charles laying him onto his back. Susan was by your side with bandages and wet cloths to clean his wounds, whilst Abigail had made a pillow out of rolled up shirts and skirts to lay under his neck to hold his head up.  
Arthur managed to half open his eyes to look at you, the blue almost completely surrounded by bloodshot red and bruises. He limply reached for your hand, feeling around for it before he held it tight. It seemed that he’d quickly stopped caring what other people saw.  
“Really?” John said as he sat down beside you, quiet enough for no one else to hear. “You two?”  
“That’s what you’re focussin’ on right now?” you hissed, narrowing your eyes at him. “He might not make it through the night, John. I think how we interact ain’t the problem right now.”  
“Not what I was implyin’, miss,” he shot back. “Simply worryin’ about who’s gonna stay with him right now.”  
“I ain’t leavin’ until he’s okay,” you said firmly. “Not sleepin’, not movin’. If he dies tonight, he dies with me right here.”

Arthur coughed, a sharp reminder that he was still there, still listening. “I ain’t gonna die,” he rasped out through a dry throat. “Shut up.”  
“You shut up,” you spat, tearing up. Your emotions were getting the better of you. “You survive this and I’ll kill you myself for getting your stupid ass caught.”  
He squeezed your hand as hard as he could - a warning or affection, you weren’t sure. John got up silently, leaving you be, and it was then that you noticed everyone else had moved away from Arthur, giving you room. It was obvious at this point what was going on between you two, but you couldn’t find it in you to care anymore.  
Nothing else mattered but Arthur making it through this.

You didn’t realise you’d fallen asleep sitting up until Arthur coughed, startling you. It was well past midnight, you could tell by the moon. Arthur’s hand still rested in yours.  
“Thirsty?” you whispered, and he nodded. You went to pour the water into his mouth again, but he stopped you.  
“Help me up,” he rasped, and you scurried behind him to hold him in a sitting position. He took the water himself and downed well over half of it in one go.  
“You’ve got some strength back already,” you noted, eyes running over his back. The cuts weren’t as bad as they were on his chest, but they were still deep and many.   
He swallowed hard, wetting his throat, before talking in a clearer voice. “I told you, I ain’t dyin’ yet.”  
You pulled the bandages that were wrapped around his body, looking underneath at the wounds that were covered. “These need changing. Would you let me?”  
He let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, making him cough hard afterwards. “Is it gonna hurt?”  
“Only if you’re a pussy,” you teased, reaching for another fresh bandage.

The wounds were horrible. Deep, long cuts, not quick slashes - designed to try and make him talk.  
“God, Arthur, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear anything,” you said, getting teary again.  
“I didn’t want you to,” he whispered, taking another large swig of water. “I knew everyone would be asleep. They came right to my tent and knocked me out. They knew which one was my tent. Someone’s rattin’ us out.”  
You sighed, slowly unwrapping the bandage from around him, trying not to pull the healing skin off. “We don’t need to think about that right now, darlin’. You might think you feel fine but I’m gonna be honest with ya - you’re threads from death. It’s a miracle you can speak, let alone sit up. If I hadn’t’ve found you in time…”  
“I’d be dead,” he finished for you. “Ain’t it nice to repay the favour?”  
Even now, he was trying to cheer you up. “I still owe you one more. You saved my ass twice.”  
“I don’t plan on nearly dyin’ twice.”   
You finished removing the bandages and applying new ones, to which he hissed and squeezed his eyes shut. “Easy, tiger. It ain’t that bad,” you soothed, rubbing his shoulder with your free hand. “Breathe for me.”  
He listened, taking three big deep breaths, eyes closed. “Thank you. For everythin’.”  
“You ain’t gotta thank me Arthur,” you said sincerely. “Even if you did still hate me, I woulda done it.”  
He tried to laugh but it came out as a raspy cough instead. “They wanted Dutch. Thought I’d be the perfect bait. When I heard shots, I coulda sworn it was him. Wasn’t expectin’ you.”  
“No one ever does,” you boasted jokingly. “Creature of the night, I am.”  
He smiled as you secured the bandage in place, watching blood already start to seep through it. “You can go back to your tent. I’m gonna be okay.”  
“No way,” you said. “I’m stayin’ right here. Always. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”  
He sighed as he laid back down, eyes closed. “At least get some sleep then. I’ll feel way too guilty if you don’t.”  
You made yourself more comfortable, taking his hand again. “Wake me if you need,” you whispered, but he was already out cold.

“This is your fault.”  
Micah. Fucking Micah. It was just past sunrise, and the king of assholes himself was standing behind you.  
You whirled around to face him, your face set in a steely scowl. “Excuse me?”  
“Careful princess, don’t wake your beau there,” he said in a low voice. “If you hadn’t have run off with him for your little bounty hunt, the O’Driscolls never woulda found us.”  
“How in the fuck is it my fault?” You resisted the urge to stomp on his foot, slap his face, elbow his balls, everything. You weren’t as low as him. “I wanted to go alone. It was Dutch that sent me with him.”  
“Oh, you’re tryin’ to blame this on Dutch now?” Micah laughed at you. “You ain’t a van der Linde, girl. For all we know, you coulda sold him out for a couple bucks. That’s your type, ain’t it?”  
“I don’t know who you think you’re talkin’ to, but I’m the one who just saved his life. I didn’t see you running off on your own to get him. You didn’t even offer to join me.”  
You heard Arthur stir, opening his eyes. “Fuck off, Micah,” he groaned, shielding his face from the sun. “You ain’t shit. Run off and suck up Dutch’s ass some more.”  
“Don’t act jealous just cause he’s relyin’ on me and not you,” Micah spat. “Maybe it would’ve been better if the O’Driscolls killed ya.”  
You stood up, furious, getting right in Micah’s face. “I’d keep my mouth well shut if I were you.”  
“What are you gonna do, girl? Slap me? Yell at me?” he mocked. “Go on, get your anger out.”  
You wanted to slap him. Dear lord, you wanted to beat his face in. But you could hear Arthur panting and groaning in pain, and you knew it wasn’t worth it. Micah wasn’t worth the blood you’d beat out of him.   
Instead, you shoved him away from you, forcing your heated emotions back. You opened your mouth to shout, but Arthur spoke before you could.  
“Just walk away, Micah. You ain’t worth it. Come back near me while I’m healin’ and I’ll shoot you in the throat so you can’t open your worthless mouth no more,” he rasped, clearly using all his strength just to fight Micah off. “Leave me be. Leave us be.”  
Micah scowled and grumbled at him but turned his back and walked away, leaving you standing there with teary eyes.

“He’s such an asshole,” you complained, wiping your eyes angrily with the back of your hand.  
Arthur gingerly pulled himself into a sitting position, patting the ground beside him. “Don’t let him get to ya. He’s just trying to get under your skin, it’s what he always does.”  
“He’s the rat,” you said firmly as you sat down. “I’m sure of it.”  
“Wasn’t it you that said that ain’t worth worryin’ about?”  
You shrugged. “I’m allowed to worry. You ain’t.”  
“I’m fine.” He looked you in the eyes and you could definitely tell he was already starting to heal up - the swelling around his eye and lip was going down, and the pure exhaustion and dehydration in his face was slowly disappearing. You’d been keeping water close by and making sure his blood wasn’t leaking through his bandages, and if you were honest, you were exhausted. But it didn’t matter.  
You sighed, looking down at the ground. “Maybe Micah’s right. Maybe this is my fault.”  
“Hey. Don’t,” he said sternly, offering you his best effort at a smile. “It ain’t your fault. It ain’t nobody’s fault. I shoulda alerted y’all, but I didn’t want anyone hurt.”  
“They coulda killed you,” you said with a lump in your throat. “Fuck, for all I know, you could still die in the night. If one of those cuts gets infected-”  
“They won’t,” he cut you off. “You and Miss Grimshaw have been wonderful. I ain’t gonna die. I promise, Y/N.”  
One tear streaked down your cheek and you swatted at it angrily. “You’d better not, or I’d throw your stupid body off a fuckin’ cliff,” you said with a choked throat.   
He laughed roughly, causing the cut on his lip to split and bleed a little. You moved on instinct, grabbing a bit of cloth from the makeshift medical table and pressing it against his mouth. “Fuck Arthur, stop doin’ that.”  
“Maybe I just wanted an excuse for you to touch me,” he said, muffled by the cloth. You shook your head in amazement - even now, he was focussed on cheering you up. “C’mon, Y/N. Ain’t no need for this. My body can’t handle anymore bullshit.”

As the days wore on, Arthur became more and more alert, and able to stay up for longer without passing out. His eye and lip began to heal, the wounds on his back began to scar up, and he was becoming more and more hydrated. It was a long process but you stayed right by his side the whole time, until he was finally well enough to move back into his tent - which meant you could finally stop sleeping on the ground. You had been keeping an extremely close eye on him and staying by his side, which definitely drew some interesting glances from the group.  
So much so, that one afternoon when Arthur had fallen asleep early, Dutch, Sadie and John staged an intervention.  
You’d come back from the river with a few salmon when Dutch motioned for you to sit across from them at their table.   
“Is… everything alright?” you asked as you sat down, uneasy.  
“Just fine, my dear,” Dutch said with a smile. “We just have a few questions for ya.”  
Your eyes went straight to John, and you glared at him. “Oh I bet you do.” You folded your arms. “This is ‘bout Arthur, ain’t it?”  
Dutch nodded. “I hear y’all have been gettin’ along quite well.”  
You leaned back in your seat, arms still crossed. “And what’s it to ya?”  
“We’re just concerned, is all,” Sadie intervened, soft as ever. “Can’t have you two gettin’ too attached to each other. It’s a danger, with how we live.”  
Your eyes moved back to John. “Oh, so it’s fine for John to have a wife and kid around here, but I can’t spend time with Morgan?”  
“That’s different and you know it,” John argued.  
“You were the one supportin’ us just days ago,” you fired back, uncrossing your arms to lean on the table towards him. “If you got a problem-”  
“There ain’t no need for that, Y/N.” Dutch pushed John back into his chair. “We ain’t tryin’ to break y’all up or nothin’. We just wanna know what’s going on.”  
You sighed. “There ain’t nothin’ to know. We’re not a couple. We’re just… more than friends, I guess.” You flushed bright red, suddenly realising how real it really was to say out loud. “We ain’t gonna run off and get married and try and build a life. I’m not plannin’ to leave the gang, nor am I plannin’ to make him leave. We ain’t in love.”  
Once you said the last part out loud, it was hard not to physically flinch. You hadn’t honestly thought about it, about the big L word. But it was almost like you spoke it into reality in that moment.  
Dutch seemed to stew over your words for a minute. “You saved his life. Big time. That means somethin’ to us round here. But don’t go thinkin’ you’re immune from us askin’ you some simple questions.”  
You breathed an audible sigh of relief. “I wouldn’t expect anything else. I’m not out here to hurt you, sir.”  
Dutch nodded, waving a hand as if to say ‘you’re dismissed’.

“Heard Dutch gave you a bit of a hard time.”  
You were sitting in your favourite spot by the water when Arthur slowly limped up behind you, joining you by the shore. It was late, well after sundown.  
You looked up at him and smiled as he sat down, making sure he was moving okay. “It wasn’t that bad. John got heated, but it’s fine.”  
He grunted as he hit the ground, leaning on you a little to support himself. “Surprised you didn’t. You’re a wild one.”  
You chose to ignore that. “Wasn’t worth it. I’m more worried about you than I’m worried about what they think. How are you holding up, Arthur? Truly?”  
He sighed, looking out over the water. “I don’t think I’ll ever be what I was,” he drawled, absentmindedly playing with the pebbles beside his feet. “My insides are all torn up. My stomach hurts. I don’t know if my back will ever feel right again. And mentally… fuck, Y/N. I don’t know where my head’s at.”  
“Oh, Arthur,” you breathed, gently draping your arm over his back so you didn’t hurt his wounds. You truly weren’t expecting the honesty from him. It showed you how much he truly did care, how much you mattered to him.  
“And y’know what?” he added, turning his head to look at you. “Only one fuckin’ person has been here the whole time. Only one person has been checkin’ on me, changin’ my bandages, makin’ sure I drink. You’re the only one who hasn’t left my side. Thank you.”

You felt your face flush red - you weren’t trying to prove a point or make a statement, you were simply just worried about him. You didn’t know where you sat with him, if you were his girl or anything. You were just… there. And that’s all that mattered.  
“Arthur, I- you don’t have to thank me. You’d have done the same for me. It ain’t that big a deal.”  
“Don’t say that,” he said quickly, reaching for your hand. It was becoming a reflex after these last few days. “Please. I need you to know just how grateful I am. It’s all that’s mattered to me. I know I ain’t been able to give you anythin’ in return, and believe me, I know a few things I could give you, but I can just serve up words right now.”  
“I don’t want for anythin’ more,” you assured him, squeezing his hand. “Your appreciation is more than enough, love. It’s okay.”  
“‘Love’?” he questioned, teasing. “S’cute.”  
“Shut up,” you muttered with an even brighter red flush. “I’ve been worried, alright? Hearin’ you talk so clearly is just a rush of relief. You were so close to death, Arthur, I…” Your own tears cut you off, catching in your throat in a lump. How fucking embarrassing.  
“And I told you I wasn’t gonna die,” he reminded, reaching his free hand over to wipe your tears away, such a tender touch that it almost made you cry more. “Easy, cowgirl. I’m still here. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I ain’t leavin’ you.”  
“You’ve turned soft, Morgan,” you teased, sniffling a little.  
He laughed, coughing afterwards. “And you’ve gotten tougher. More mature. It’s been a nice progression to watch.”  
“Why’re you bein’ so nice to me?” you questioned. From what you’d learned in your lifetime, nobody was this nice without ulterior motives. “You ain’t healthy enough to have sex with me again yet, so it can’t be for that,” you added jokingly.  
“I got plenty of reasons,” he said dismissively, as if he was hiding something. He took a deep breath, turning to look you in the eyes. “The main one bein’ that I love you, Y/N.”

Your heart skipped way too many beats to be healthy, and your breath caught in your throat. This was what you’d been thinking about for days now. Always in the back of your mind, unsure if it was true, unsure if you were reading his emotions right. And now he took the words away from you, speaking them into a whole new and twisted reality. Just weeks ago you hated each other. Couldn’t stand to be in each other’s company. And now…  
You were leaving him hanging here in the few seconds of silence. You could practically hear both of your hearts racing, his ragged and sickly breaths giving away nothing but fear.  
“I love you too, Arthur,” you said in a voice almost inaudible, just enough for him to catch. You heard him let out a sigh of relief, followed by a raspy laugh.  
“Fuck, thank God for that,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Coulda been a bit awkward if you didn’t answer me.”  
“I just wanted to make sure you were sure about that after you said it,” you admitted. “Wouldn’t have been surprised if you took it back.”  
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured you, squeezing your hand. “I’m sure about this. I’m sure about you, darlin’. No one has ever stuck by me this much.”  
You smiled at him, letting go of his hand to cup his cheek. “And to think that it took me nearly dying twice for us to finally get hooked up.”  
“I think the two of us need to spend some time not dying,” he joked, taking your hand and kissing your palm, so tender that it made you shiver. “C’mon. We should go to bed.”

Early in the morning, you were sitting around the fire with a warm mug of coffee, joined by Abigail and Sadie.  
“How’s Arthur holding up?” Abigail asked.  
You took a sip of your coffee before answering. “He’s alright. His back and stomach are still pretty messed up, but he’s getting better.”  
“Think he could ride a horse?” Sadie asked, making you raise an eyebrow.  
“I don’t know… why?”  
“I have a job for you, and I figured you might like to take him along. It’ll be an overnight stay down in Strawberry. Thought it’d be good for him to get out, and good for you both to have a night away.”  
Your eyes widened. “What does the job involve?” you asked warily. You weren’t putting Arthur anywhere near a gun at this point.  
“Nothing dangerous,” Sadie assured you. “I’ve got a contact who owes us some money. All I need is for you to go down and get the money off him. You don’t need to put Arthur in any danger, it’ll just be you.”  
You thought it over for a moment. After last night, some one-on-one time with Arthur was welcomed, but you didn’t want to risk anything happening to him. You’d grown unbelievably protective of him. But like Sadie said, he didn’t have to risk anything. He’d be safe, you’d earn some money, and you’d have a night away from camp…   
“I’ll do it.”

Arthur helped you pack your saddlebags with the next day’s clothing, a little bit of food, some water, and a whole lot of bandages, just in case.  
“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” you asked for probably the fiftieth time.  
He rolled his eyes at you. “I’m gonna be fine. I’ll wait at the inn while you go beat this guy up, and I’ll meet you there when you’re done.”  
“I ain’t beatin’ nobody up,” you assured him. “I’m a little bit more kind than you.”  
He laughed, buckling up his bag. “I don’t doubt it.”  
“You good to ride?” you asked.  
He shrugged lightly. “Only one way to find out. Might need you to help me up onto my horse, but I should be fine.”  
You obliged him, holding his foot and giving him a boost up onto his horse. He groaned as he got on, eventually finding a sitting position that didn’t hurt. “You good?” you asked.  
“Yeah,” he grunted, rolling his shoulders back. “I’m good.”  
You saddled up, mounted up, and looked over at him. “Follow me, then!”  
You kicked your horse, put on your hat, and rode out towards Strawberry.

**Author's Note:**

> tbh I kinda wanna continue this, if that's something you'd be down for then let me know xx


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